This Great Society - Writing

 

 
Illustration: Alma Visscher


Linnea McNally: Another Letter to Myself
Illustration: Alma Visscher

 
 

I could open your mouth with a corkscrew,
Crawl inside, furtive.
Drive my spiked heel through your tongue
And make you say exactly,
Exactly,
What I've been waiting all along to hear.
I could make marmalade spill from your ears
When you hear for the first time the words that,
Constipated, have sat within, festering:

"I am okay. I am not afraid."

To observe these perpetrators, these harbingers, these words,
Prickly as they exit,
And to believe, for once, that they
DO NOT HAVE TO BE LIES,
If that is what you will allow yourself to choose,
I'll thus freely remove myself from behind your molars,
Leave your mangled nerves in frayed, frazzled electric heaps.
I'll slip out, unnoticed.

At first, when you breathe, unclenched,
You will likely notice a fullness of blood in the lips.
You will be unstoppable.
And they will all, for once, be made dumb with awe.

 

 
This Great Society - Contents

 

This Great Society - Contents